Starlight, Sunlight, and Roses
by Bree-Bee
Summary: Mimi, an aspiring model, and falls in love with “moonlight on the sea, a god of starlight and shadows? in one word- Yamato", making her life nearly perfect. But perfection, like beauty, is only skin deep. Mimato, Michi, Sorato
1. Camera Flashes and Fireworks

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Digimon. And the plot is mostly based on the story "All That Glitters" which **surprise**, **surprise**, does not belong to me either. Now that we've established that I don't own either of the above, please don't sue me.

Author's Notes:

*Hey everyone! I apologize for not updating in forever but now that the third marking period is finally over (with my very well-deserved-but-nearly-freakin'-killed-me-to-earn A in math) I have time to write again! Yay!

*This story is a/u (alternate universe)- the whole Digimon thing never happened. 

*And to my faithful readers I'm sorry, but this is definitely _not _my usual coupling (this one's Mimato/Michi/Sorato *yeah, yeah, _I_'m surprised too*). But give a try, please? I love you guys! And I'm also terribly sorry about not posting the next chapter of "Music of My Heart". I have a rough outline, but I don't want to put it up until it's at it best. So continue being patient, and thanks for your support.

*Don't forget to review, but please don't flame! (Don't you just hate those people who are all 'I won't update until I get ____ many reviews' though? Some people -like me- just don't do reviews.)

            Mimi gingerly rubs her throbbing temples with her fingertips, sighing deeply, and feverishly wishing that she would never have to see the blinding flash of a camera **ever **again. Today's photo shoot had been an absolute nightmare. The photographer was an arrogant and irritable man; and his negative attitude and snide remarks made her feel extremely uncomfortable and insecure. 

            "It's not you, hun," Amaya had said in the dressing room as she swept a touch of glitter onto Mimi's rosy cheeks. "He's always a bitch." Amaya studied Mimi's face carefully before dabbing Mimi's under-eyes with a makeup sponge. "You've got bags under your eyes. How late were you up partying?" 

            "I was doing research," Mimi corrected. "I have a term paper due next week."

            Amaya nodded skeptically. "Oh, right," she stated indifferently as she gave Mimi's make-up another critique, and finally nodding in approval after applying a thin coat of clear gloss to Mimi's lips.

Her makeup finished, Tara, the fashion stylist handed her the outfit for the first shot. "Take off your bra," she commanded. 

            Mimi discreetly removed her bra. "Where's my top?" Mimi asked after she had donned the cute pair of jeans, intricately decorated with delicate lace at the flares.

"You don't get one for this shot, " the stylist said impatiently as she looked her wristwatch. "Let's go."

Mimi didn't move and instinctively wrapped her arms protectively around her chest.

"Don't worry, your hair will cover your breasts."

Mimi still didn't move.  

"What? This isn't a problem is it?" Tara snapped, her words dripping with sarcasm. "I thought you were a _professional_. This is high fashion, not some advertisement for Wal-Mart." 

            Mimi's throat tightened and she rapidly blinked back tears. "I am a professional," she retorted. "I've just never done anything topless before," she finished lamely.

            "Stop wasting my time. Do you want to be a model or don't you? Should I call your agency to send me someone else?" Tara tapped her foot impatiently.

            The threat of such humiliation was too much for Mimi. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "No, it's ok, I can do it."

            Yet Mimi found it impossible to relax on the set. Although her pink tresses were long enough to cover her, and although she knew the pictures would turn out beautiful and exotic she felt used and embarrassed.

            "Loosen up," the photographer called out from behind the camera. "Purse your lips a bit, ok. Arch your back, yeah, that's nice." Clickclickclickclick. "Don't be so stiff, you look like you're made out of wood. Have fun with it." Click, click. "Could I get a little more…something?" Mimi tried to accommodate. "No. Show me sass. Sassier, come one, show me attitude…"

            "Don't worry, you look ravishing darling," Amaya whispered as she brushed a fine dusting of shimmer onto Mimi's shoulders while the camera was being reloaded. 

            This was not much consolation. Even though she was fully covered for the rest of the shots Mimi was miserable. Mimi felt horribly lonely between the photographer's barking orders, Amaya yanking and tugging at her hair, and everyone else on set pulling her one direction and then another.

            On her way home, Mimi stopped by her agency to see her manager. 

            "I don't want to be a nerd," she told her booker, "but I don't know if I'm ready for my breasts to be splashed on the cover of some magazine for all to see."

            "Mimi, do you want to be a model or don't you?" her agent asked, just as Tara had. "This is a big break that other girls would kill for. Once these pictures come out, you career is going to take off like fireworks on the 4th of July."

            'Great,' Mimi thought sarcastically. 'Then I can have days like this all the time.' 

Mimi shifts in her seat uncomfortably. It was hard to pay attention to the teacher when she could feel the envious stares of the girls bore into her. And she could practically see the boys undressing her with their eyes. 'Not that there'll be much left to the imagination after that magazine comes out,' she thinks bitterly. Everywhere she went Mimi seemed to kick up rumors like dust, and this school was no exception. 

"And that's all for today's lesson," the teacher announces. "Oh, and try-outs for the school's production of Romeo and Juliet will be held in the auditorium today afternoon. I encourage all of you to attend."


	2. Champange, Roses, and Rainwashed Sky

Author's notes: *Sigh*, I think I failed my math test. Grrr math is evil. *Double sigh* the boy's j.v. soccer team kicked our (j.v. girls) ass- the final score was embarrassing. 7-1! Yay, I scored our only goal, but damn it! Why do the boys always seem to win? (I gotta admit, E was on ~fire~ though.) It's not been a good day. But you know what would make my day better? Reviews, lol, *hint-hint-nudge-nudge-wink-wink*. (Nice reviews, if you please.)

Thank you Dark and Dreary and Kitti for reviewing!

Savoan Locc- You're review was pretty hard to understand because of your grammar. My drill-sergeant-of-a-language-arts-teacher would have a field day with you. Anyways, just because I don't particularly **adore a couple, doesn't mean I can't try to write a good fic about it (although this fic ****does not end Mimato, lol it's kind of ironic how it ends actually). And when did I ever even imply that I was a Koumi hater? Even if I was, is it your place to impose your views on others?**

After school, Mimi makes her way to the auditorium. She has never acted before, but something about the glamour of the stage has always enticed her. Never one to step down from a challenge, Mimi hands her application confidently to a tall blonde boy with eyes as deep as the ocean, who was assisting the drama teacher.

            "Mimi," he says, reading her form as he placed it on top of his pile. "That's a cute name."

            Mimi blushes a light shade of crimson. "Thank you," she murmurs, although she is receives numerous compliments almost daily she was still uncomfortable about receiving them. 

            "I'm Yamato. We have a class together don't we? Physics," he says, in a soft melodic voice, carefully enunciating every syllable. And then, "You'll read after Sora, that girl right there," and he leaves to collect more forms.

            She hears her name being called, and all of a sudden her self-assurance leaves. Mimi takes a few deep yoga breaths to calm the fluttering butterflies in her stomach and steps onstage. The stage lights are blinding, and Mimi swallows nervously because they remind her so much of the lights used at the set of her last shoot. The instant she begins to read she feels herself transforming into shy, sweet, enamored Juliet. Her voice, as infectious as champagne and twice as bubbly, echoes through the auditorium. She knows that she is good; she feels it in her tingling nerves and sees it in the faces of the other students. When she is finished, she's breathless and exhilarated, like someone who had just discovered that she could fly.

            "Nice," the drama teacher critiques. "Thank you."

The next day Mimi races down two flights of stairs and through the hall to the door of the auditorium, where the callback list hung. She reads the list twice, thinking she must have missed her name. She rereads it a third time, desperately thinking that her eyes are deceiving her. When she knows it isn't there, she feels her heart plummet and shatter into a thousand pieces; fighting back tears, she walks slowly to class, oblivious to the voices and faces around her.

            On her way to physics, Mimi sees the drama teacher, and summons the courage to approach her. Perhaps she could give her some advice for the next time she auditioned, or maybe she could use an understudy.

            "Actually I thought you auditioned quite well," the drama teacher assures her. "But there just aren't enough parts for everyone and we should give someone else a chance to be in a spotlight. You've even done some modeling after you?"

            "Once…." Mimi begins. 'How did she know that?' Mimi wonders. After all, she had only transferred to this school.

            "I just think it's important to be fair. You're a very pretty girl," the director continues. And it was true, Mimi had skin like the most tender petals of a newly bloomed tulip, and eyes the color of ruby-red roses still shining with dew." And you have other opportunities that your classmates don't," she continued. "I want my students to enjoy their extracurricular experiences, without any unfair competition."

            Mimi didn't think it was fair. But since she did not have the nerve to tell the teacher exactly what she thought, and never one for confrontations, Mimi opted to walk away.

            In the classroom, Mimi saw Yamato casually approach her out of the corner of her eye. "Did you make callbacks?" he inquires, ignoring the glare she was giving him.

            Mimi scowls up at him. "No," she counters coolly.

            "Really?" he asks, genuinely surprised. "I thought your audition was really good."

            Mimi opens her textbook nonchalantly and uncaps her ballpoint pen with her teeth. "Apparently it wasn't that good," she replies, the plastic cap still in her mouth as she makes a great show of organizing her various other pens and pencils. She didn't want to talk about the play, but Yamato wasn't so easily dissuaded.

            "If you want," he persists, "There's a lot of other stuff you can do. I know that the set construction crew needs more people. Do you know anything about carpentry? Painting maybe?"

            Mimi was about to shoot him down, but one look into his eyes- eyes bluer than rain-washed sky, bluer than a robin's egg, surely only angels had eyes that blue- and she melted like warm butter. "Sure, "answers Mimi, who wasn't positive she knew one end of the hammer from the other.

            "Then why don't you come by the auditorium after school today?" and Mimi nods, hypnotized by his gaze. 


	3. Clovers, A Shining Prince, and Golden Ho...

That afternoon, as the cast and the production crew begins to gather in the auditorium for their first reproduction meeting, Mimi firmly decided that she would be a part of the play, and no one (especially not the drama teacher) would change her mind. For the next eight weeks, Mimi spent every day after school involved in backstage production work. She sawed, hammered, sanded, painted, and helped the lighting and sound technicians. But what she enjoyed the most was preparing sketches for the costume designers. And during rehearsals she sat offstage, hidden in the wings, and watched the cast members, including Yamato, go through their scenes, laughing and squabbling.

            One rarely plans to fall in love, and Mimi was almost surprised the day she realized that Yamato was all she thought about. She came to rehearsals when she didn't even need to be there, just to be near him. Carefully, gradually, she and Yamato became friends, first with not-so-idle small talk and then with gentle teasing and flirting. 

            Mimi wooed Yamato with the naiveté and innocence of a child. She gave him small gifts- openhearted poems that she wrote, or the four-leaf clover she found, and Yamato, touched, would press the delicate plant between the pages of his history textbook.

            Its' opening night, and to Mimi sits unhappily in the first row, wishing with all her heart that she was onstage with the others. She mouths her favorite lines with the actors, but it's not the same. The girl, Sora, chosen to play Juliet is cute, and her voice clear and pleasant, but Mimi senses her lines are hollow. 'She's never been in love before,' Mimi realizes. As the play unfolds, Mimi is torn by the swell of adoration for Yamato and the familiar ache that throbs in her chest as she sits watching in the dark. She should be the one up there, speaking those words to her Yamato, her Romeo.

 As the cast takes its collective vow amid ecstatic applause, Mimi claps until her hands sting.

            Later, Mimi stands in the lobby, waiting for Yamato to emerge backstage to meet her. Some girls smile at her, and she smiles back, even though she doesn't know them.

            "You're a model, aren't you?" asks one of the girls. 

            "Yes," replies Mimi, somewhat startled.

            "I thought so, I've seen your picture somewhere."

            Mimi nods politely.

            "You know Ishida Yamato, right?" her friend asks.

            "Yes."

            "I heard he sometimes dates a model, I bet that's you."

            'Sometimes?' Mimi wonders. But she has no more time to think about it because suddenly, Yamato's slender arms wrap around her waist from behind, and he kisses her cheek. "Hi beautiful, what did you think?"

            "You were wonderful!" Mimi exclaims. She tries to hug him, but instead of returning the gesture he maneuvers her through the crowd and down the steps onto the icy street. 

            The sky is navy blue, and everywhere soft lights glow through the windows while the trees cast mysterious shadows across the campus. It has begun to flurry, and Mimi is enchanted with the beauty of the evening. 'Like a winter-wonder-land', she thinks. 'And me with my shining prince.'

            "There's a cast party tonight, do you want to go?" Yamato asks.

            "Sure," Mimi says, but going to the party is the last thing she wants. 'Just for a little while,' she thinks, 'can't I have you to myself?'

            An hour later Mimi and Yamato are stomping the snow off their shoes in the entrance to the dinner club where the party was being held. She immediately recognizes some of the guests as cast members of the play, and others as audience members. Yamato takes their coats, and returns with a drink for each of them, and soon Mimi is enjoying herself.

            Yamato introduces herself to several clusters of people, but Mimi finds herself most comfortable chatting with a guy named Taichi. (Yamato had mysteriously disappeared.) Taichi actually seemed interested in her thoughts, unlike the other guys (one whom she heard call her "an empty vase"). His voice was like slow and golden, like honey- smooth and sweet, powerful yet subtle. 

"What are you going to do with your life?" he asks, looking deeply into her eyes.

Finding his gaze a little too intense, Mimi focuses her eyes on his classic Grecian nose. "I'm a model," she states flatly.

"You don't sound happy about it."

Mimi shrugs apathetically.

"The way I see it, you see modeling on the same level as homework- you do it because it's expected of you. But maybe you don't realize that you can still do other things with your life. I'm a soccer player, but that doesn't mean I'm going to play pro after I graduate."

Mimi looked at him, slightly stunned. She had never considered that just because she was a model now didn't mean she'd have to be one all her life. "What are you going to do?"

He grins slyly at her. "I want to become a politician."

She smiles back. "You've certainly got the charisma. Well, whatever you run for I'll vote for you."

"If you support my stand on issues. Don't do it just because you like me," he responds solemnly, and Mimi can't help but wonder if his words have a hidden meaning.

But soon she longs to find Yamato.

            Mimi quietly hurries down the hall, and finds Yamato by the pool table, where he is showing Sora how to shoot, slowly guiding her cue stick from behind.

            "Can we go now?" Mimi asks. Yamato and Sora straighten up quickly, looking embarrassed, but Mimi has already left to get her coat.

            Mimi is grateful that Yamato doesn't ask any questions as they walk back to his dorm. She doesn't feel like explaining; she only wants to be alone with him. For the rest of the evening she is quiet and pensive, but Yamato doesn't seem to notice, and to her relief, he is affectionate and attentive. His roommate is out, and long after midnight Mimi and Yamato fall asleep in each other's arms. 


	4. Cover photos, and Sunlight vs Moonlight

Mimi wakes up early the next morning. She curls up against Yamato, and contently watches the steady rise and fall of his chest. Outside the sky turns lighter while the falling snow collects on the windowsill.

            The phone rings, and Mimi sits up quietly, so as not to wake Yamato, to answer it. 

            "Hello?" she says.

            "Hello? Sora?" a male voice replies. 

            "What?" she asks.

            "Sora, get Yamato on the phone. I need to talk to him."

            Mimi hangs up, she understands perfectly. She gets up and dresses in two minutes flat, without waking Yamato. But before she leaves, she stops in front of Yamato's desk. There is a bulletin boards hanging over it, covered in pictures of his family and friends. In the center, like a trophy, is a picture of her. It's one of her favorites, one that she copied from her own portfolio. Mimi quickly yanks her picture off his board, and briskly walks out the door without another look back.

Mimi glares angrily at her feet, as she sits on the cold park bench. "Life sucks!" Mimi yells in a hoarsly, making some ducks fly away in fright. A touch of solemn dignity lingers upon her features, but the radiance of her sincerity still shines through.

            "Life is a bitch, isn't it?" a voice from behind her comments.

She jumps up with a start, and spins around to look at the person that startled her.

            "Hey Taichi, you surprised me," Mimi said, forcing a smile and wiping away her tears with her sleeves.

            "I'm sorry to hear about Yamato….I know how you feel. Sora was my girlfriend."

            Mimi looks down at her hands, not feeling like discussing the matter.

He sits down on the bench besides her. "You're going to catch a cold out here."

Mimi continues looking at her hands, purposely ignoring his gaze because if she looks into those eyes…no, it was better not think about it.

"I'm gonna stay here until you leave. Or we can leave together. Either one." 

He smiles at her and for the first time Mimi really notices his warm, chocolate colored eyes ('Dark or milk?' Mimi wondered idly) flecked with tiny, golden specks. Mimi shivered involuntarily. If Yamato was moonlight on the sea, a god of starlight and shadows, Taichi was sunlight over a field of golden flowers, a god of sunbeams and radiance. And even though Yamato's betrayal still stung, somehow Taichi made everything seem not so bleak. Here was finally someone who could understand.

            "Would you like to come home to me for a cup of tea?" she asks shyly. 

He laughs and lays a hand on her shoulder, a small electric shock came over her and spread trough her whole body from the gentle touch of his warm hand.  
            "Sure, Beautiful, misery loves company."

Despite Taichi's words, Mimi is suddenly acutely aware of how awful she must look with her tear-streaked cheeks, puffy eyes, messy hair, and askew clothes. 

As if he's read her mind, he comfortingly clasps her hands in his. "You are beautiful," he whispers soothingly. "And you always are. You have an exquisiteness that fades simply to loveliness when you're not in motion." He pauses before adding light-heartedly, "You're definitely a lot prettier when you smile though."

And Mimi can't help but laugh at the goofy grin he gives her. 'It's only fitting after all,' she decides, 'that a flower turns towards the sun'.


End file.
